


On the Internet, Nobody Knows You're a Dog

by kanadka



Category: Coup (Card Game)
Genre: Betrayal, Cyberpunk, Deception, Gen, Murder, Secret Identity, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23909701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanadka/pseuds/kanadka
Summary: How the Inquisitor rose from the ranks with a handful of lies to orchestrate a corporate takeover purely in System-space.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 9
Collections: Be The First! 2020





	On the Internet, Nobody Knows You're a Dog

**Author's Note:**

> I made my best guess at tagging the fandom, but it's based on the card game Coup which is part of a world the gamemakers dubbed The Dystopian Universe, so either Coup or The Dystopian Universe would probably work!
> 
> You don't have to know anything about this card game to be able to read this fic. Literally all the card game gives you are:  
> \- the different characters (which I proceed to term avatars) all have different actions (e.g. the assassin... well, assassinates, the contessa blocks assassination)  
> \- you can lie to everybody about what cards you hold and bluff your way into taking whatever action you goddamn want  
> \- if you get caught in a lie, you lose a card (if someone else tries to catch you in a lie but you really do have that card, _they_ lose a card)  
> \- you collect coins every turn and those coins can help you afford an assassination (if you have the assassin, pay the money and make someone lose a card, unless they have the contessa) or a coup (simply make someone lose a card)  
> \- you only get two cards, and the last person standing wins.
> 
> Also, the card art is extremely pretty ([here's a bunch of them](https://cf.geekdo-images.com/original/img/yFa_4wKvOMH3c9as5Uulngy6V-E=/0x0/pic2463971.jpg), with the mainstay designs in the left-most column) and there's a vague notion of a elite/corporate cyberpunk post-coup dystopia going on, where the New World Order consists of megacorporations calling the shots. Unfortunately, that was all the worldbuilding they really gave.

The System is cold today. That's not a sensation of the skin, or internally, because neither skin nor internal organs exist inside the virtual-space System. Rather, it's a way to describe the callous ruthlessness with which corporations move against each other. 'Cold' is how it feels when your avatar interacts with others while, as the controller, you're left with the impression that others are eyeing the memory the avatar occupies with distinctly wolfish eyes, and that any kindnesses they appear to extend to you come with hidden clauses attached. 'Cold' means they're more likely to start shit, they're more likely to call you out to see whether under the hood, your class code matches your public-facing avatar, because it doesn't have to, and if you're caught red-handed, you face reallocation.

The Influencer for Rayan Corporation - an information conglomerate of some growing renown - instantiated as Inquisitor, and put up the avatar as such, too. (That is, that's what they're telling people.) An Inquisitor is powerless in the face of an Assassin, but there is some security there: the Inquisitor class possesses the subroutines that enable them to quickly and easily run a verification check on any Influencer's underlying class, without threat of reallocation.

This is the job that the Duke (the Inquisitor hasn't checked that they are actually a Duke) from Helidna Inc has requested the Inquisitor perform. Getting an Inquisitor consultant is a cheap and easy way to establish trust. And the Duke wants the Inquisitor to trust them very badly. Rumour in the wires suggest the Duke's on their last legs in terms of memory, and that there's no more space in Helidna for another reallocation.

The Inquisitor steps past the last set of firewalls for the secure server the Duke's sent out pointers to, but there's already another unit here. The Inquisitor runs a quick check to see if Rayan is compromised, but there's no evidence of foul play on their side. Must've been Helidna with an unsecured connection, because how else would that Assassin avatar be able to have found this server?

`> you can't`, the Duke is saying. `> I'm a Contessa class.`

The Inquisitor thinks it would be interesting, if the Duke were - so much for trust between them. But it is the Duke's only move left, so it is not so surprising a tactic. The alternative is calling out the Assassin for a class check. And something tells the Inquisitor they'd pass it.

Ah, if only the Duke had waited a little longer. But with the Assassin in the server there isn't enough memory for _two_ Influencers.

`> prove that you are one`, says the Assassin.

The results of the verification property run between them, and the Inquisitor is not close enough to examine the results for themselves, so the variable is lost.

`> well`, says the Duke. `> you can't blame me for trying.`

The Assassin strikes quickly.

Reallocation... is never pretty. Not being an Assassin, the Inquisitor has never seen it quite so brutal. An avatar being reinstantiated is a custom-built thing from the ground up, bits upon bits in the memory allocation as it dumps from swap. Reallocation means those bits are sent out instead. And sometimes they reallocate successfully, if the memory capacity allows. But that entirely depends on the configuration of the System and the corporations that have signed up for its use. Sometimes the computing cores just aren't available, even for a company with means.

Helidna has evidently exhausted their allotted capacity. Only parts of the Duke reintegrate. The System relays it to the Inquisitor's online perceptions - what passes for a mind, inside the System - like it's a set of disembodied limbs, without any connection. A kneecap, a finger, a length of intestine. A single-lidded eyeball. The shiny medallion that adorned the forehead on the Duke's avatar, still with a patch of scalp attached.

It is possible that these are elements of the original Influencer - the human person who jacked in to the system. Different corporations have different System feedback settings. No way to know what Helidna's were. Maybe on the other side, in meatspace, the Helidna Influencer received a nasty shock for their trouble. Maybe a little more of a jolt.

But no matter how much bandwidth a company has, a failed reallocation never means anything good for the human behind the bits. Helidna will move to protect itself and its assets, but not necessarily its workers, not when they've been caught out in a lie. Certainly not its cybernetic Influencers, who are hireable and fireable from any amount of the wandering mouths in meatspace who are thirsty and eager for their chance to frolic in the elite System. Anyway. That's a problem for HR.

The Inquisitor strides up to the Assassin's avatar, now that there's enough memory in the vault to do so. They have little to fear from the Assassin, but the opposite is not true, and the Assassin moves to protect the remainders of the Duke, strewn in haphazard pieces; what remains of the Duke's Influencer's corporate entity. `> these are my get!` says the Assassin. `> I won this memory fair! It's company property, now!`

Then, they should be clear which company is taking over the remains of Helidna Inc. `> who sent you`, they ask.

`> an assassin does not divulge`, the Assassin replies.

Then they must have been hired. `> so prove that you are one`, says the Inquisitor, with a cold tone.

The Assassin takes it unflinchingly - after all, it's the Inquisitor's job. They back down and prepare to eject themselves from the server. `> very well`, they say, and disappear through an exit point in the connection subroutine with error code 0.

So, _not_ an Assassin, then. An Assassin would have been able to prove themselves. And if the Inquisitor sees a different class lurking beneath the avatar, that's reallocation for them. Better to run away and fight again. Lie again.

A new program enters the server. The proprietary documentation reads copyright Drone Industries. The Inquisitor registers a Captain avatar. Judging by the bluster behind it, the user is probably a Captain class, too. Or a very good liar. Or both. It takes a lot of balls to demand that many cores.

`> your doing, I presume?` says the Captain. They gesture to the memory leak wreckage of the Helidna Inc's Duke. `> if so, you should collect it before anyone else does.`

It is not the Inquisitor's doing. Not that the potential for greed isn't there - Rayan Corp would be delighted at a little extra space. Swap the memory for storage, use it to hire another Influencer, maybe their own assassin. But perhaps the Inquisitor can strike a better bargain for Rayan Corp. Play a longer game. `> I was not the direct perpetrator`, says the Inquisitor, `> and therefore I am not the primary benefactor. We could both partake.`

`> I am listening`, says the Captain. `> state your terms and conditions.`

The Captain being here implies they had intended to meet with the Duke. Possibly Drone Industries wanted a merger with Helidna. Possibly they did not intend to ask nicely. `> did you send the Assassin who reallocated this space?`

`> as a Captain avatar`, they explain, `> I do not have the appropriate privileges. Drone Industries doesn't have the funds.`

`> I could verify that`, threatens the Inquisitor. `> my class has the methods for it.`

None of the avatars have emotions. They all simply have placid, standoffish holographic portraits: the Captain is a handsome male with dark hair in a narrow central strip and shaved elsewhere, warm-toned skin, and a massive scar over one thin eye. His facial hair is well-shaped and trimmed, and he is dressed in the usual royal-looking blue uniform. The avatar's expression doesn't shift. (Neither does the Inquisitor's, who is a beautiful if somewhat pale strawberry-blond female. The avatar wears an intricate hairpiece and headdress and an impressive mantle over voluminous robes. Both their costumes are purposefully intimidating.)

Nevertheless there is something hesitant to the Captain's actions and words. They regard the pieces of the fallen Duke and say only, `> if you must.`

`> if you are what you say you are, you have nothing to fear`, reasons the Inquisitor.

Reinstantiation - if the Captain passes - is not as risky as reallocation. The memory is kept secure and whole. But it is possible the Captain prefers this class and would not want to be randomly reassigned, which, if the Inquisitor is permitted to do their job, they _must_ be reassigned. It's in the Terms of Service of the System that no one can know for sure for very long. Corporations, after all, have a right to their secrets.

`> or I could make an exception`, says the Inquisitor. `> for the right price.`

`> name it`, says the Captain.

`> you join in alliance with me over the Duke's fallen memory shares`, the Inquisitor says.

The Captain, who with that large scar, could use that extra fallen eyeball, nods. `> more than happy to do business with you.`

Good. Then, `> I believe the assassin was sent by Tahan GmbH.` A fabrication. Tahan has built themselves quite the name in the elite in meatspace. It would do well to keep things consistent System-side. Keep them controlled. Otherwise, one side gets too big for its britches and the last time that happened, the fallout was extensive. Everytime there's fallout, there's downtime in the System. It is impractical, in the Inquisitor's opinion. Better to preserve the status quo.

Yet the Inquisitor knows that the Captain - and the Tahan Influencer - are reformers, not loyalists. `> but Tahan GmbH is a close contact of ours`, says the Captain. `> how could you have such information and I did not? We signed a non-disclosure agreement.`

`> Tahan's mistrust in your company is more the reason you should assist me`, says the Inquisitor. Tahan intends to accumulate memory shares to force another power imbalance. That would be extremely counterproductive for Rayan, _and_ Drone.

`> because Rayan was not involved to the talks between Tahan and Drone`, says the Captain. There is a droll, sarcastic tone to their voice. Modulated by the system, no doubt. Bandwidth clipping.

The Inquisitor does not smile, but there is an equally droll, sarcastic tone to their voice. The bandwidth in here is atrocious. Someone should file a request with support. `> you can't blame me for trying.`

`> but it is not the first time we have suspected Tahan of moving against us`, says the Captain. `> Drone Industries has conducted extensive risk analysis.`

`> then I'm certain, between our company's pooled resources`, says the Inquisitor, `> the boards of Finance will approve funding for an Assassin hire with speedy turnaround.`

\--

Whatever fragments of memory cannot be pooled, for their immediate Influencer use, can instead be embezzled to be able to afford an Assassin. Assassins do not come cheap; the avatar upgrade is expensive; the class upgrade even more so. A cheap Assassin is lost money, high risk with no reward.

The remains of the former Duke barters well enough, but they are not able to afford an Assassin Influencer without the Captain's ability to steal, which the Captain does - if reluctantly.

It is then that Tahan makes their move. `> not so fast`, says the Tahan Influencer - an Ambassador avatar. `> I doubt you're really a Captain, so I don't think you have the code to generate those kinds of leaks that could get you that kind of memory cred.`

The Captain, cornered in their current disk usage of this shared server, says nothing in reply. They release the memory they had designs on quietly, hoping the Ambassador will not press the matter.

The Inquisitor watches them both with some wariness. It is a curious thing, the scrutiny of an Inquisitor, and it strikes the Captain then: how _did_ the Ambassador know to question the Captain's class at all?

The Ambassador turns to the Inquisitor. `> Tahan GbmH has a better offer for our Inquisitor Influencer friend`, they say. `> we have the memory for a hire, and then some. Reallocation wouldn't be a problem. Join our side.`

It begins to look like a set-up to the hapless Captain. `> we have unspent assets together`, protests the Captain.

`> and you shall remain entitled to one share of them`, says the Ambassador, reasonably. `> but even if our good friends at Drone Industries should withhold, we can more than cover the transference in physical memory. What does Drone offer you, some snippets of swap space? the odd tensor here and there?`

The Inquisitor says nothing for a moment, weighing their choice carefully in a heavy silence. The Captain cannot change their avatar's facial features, but there is a preemptive coolness about them.

`> I accept`, says the Inquisitor at last, `> though not to a hiring. I will act as consultant.`

The Ambassador claps their hands together in satisfaction. It does not mesh well with the expression their avatar makes, which remains steadfastly frozen in an icy sneer. `> excellent`, says the Ambassador.

`> consult for us both`, offers the Captain. `> Drone still has _something_ for you.`

`> that`, says the Inquisitor, `> is a better idea.`

`> our offer was the earlier one`, says the Ambassador. The Ambassador avatar points at the Captain's. `> so we get the first move. And for that first move, I'd like you to verify our dear Captain friend. Now, if you please.`

Moment of truth. The Captain has much at stake. The avatar lowers their eyes in submission, or in narrowed concentration, or both.

The Ambassador could, of course, perform the verification themselves. If they were correct and caught the Captain in a lie, the Captain would be reallocated. But, if they were wrong, and the Captain were truthful, the Captain could reinstantiate safely. And the Ambassador would be reallocated. Tahan GmbH must not have enough spare memory for that reallocation, which is why the Ambassador has the Inquisitor do that job for them. It's an optimised, utilitarian plan: the least amount of bit-shifting.

The Inquisitor makes a few commands and runs the module. `> the class matches the avatar`, confirms the Inquisitor.

But the Captain doesn't breathe any more easily. Reinstantiation means a memory wipe of the space for your avatar and class, and reloading a random class. Perhaps the Captain will get lucky and be a Captain once more. Perhaps they will be the Assassin they wanted to hire. Perhaps another Duke.

`> just one last thought`, says the Captain, as they dissolve from the avatar's base upwards, `> you never actually checked they were really an Inquisitor, did you?`

The bits disappear and reset with not one speck out of place. The Captain and their avatar have disappeared entirely, to reappear elsewhere at System reset.

`> what's a few lies among friends!` says the Ambassador reasonably.

\-- 

The assets the former Captain (now Assassin, so Drone Industries has gotten what it wanted all along, without even the need to involve Finance) had had from the Duke's vacated arrays go to the main fund for Drone Industries, which is getting rather sizeable. Enough to soon afford the hostile takeover of another company without their consent, which they do. Delgado e.V. soon becomes Drone-Delgado, then Drone & D, then simply Drone, and another one bites the dust.

The Ambassador, too, reinstantiates. An Ambassador is allowed, if they desire. Unlike the Captain, though, they pick a lie of an avatar (they were not really Ambassador, either): they select an Inquisitor avatar, but instantiate as a Duke. Tahan has ample funds, and has been keeping them to keep a shortlist of Assassins on hire. But once Drone starts to go after other entities, Tahan seeks to even the playing field. After all, the bigger Drone gets, the more memory they receive for funding trade, the more Assassins they could hire - the more in jeopardy Tahan's Influencer is.

It's just protection. But tell that to Neoxing Electronics and Spec Horizon Media, both of whom disappeared late last year after Tahan made them offers they didn't dare refuse.

Both Drone and Tahan would have made similar 'offers' to Rayan Corporation, except that their Inquisitor has curiously disappeared. Each of Drone and Tahan have scoured the System for them, but to no avail. They each come to the conclusion that the Influencer jacked out, because according to the latest public figures, Rayan Corporation can't possibly afford the kinds of security upgrades that would hide their activity in the System.

Unless the Inquisitor has been doing the exact same thing they've been doing: knocking off the competition one by one. And an Inquisitor _could_ do that, by forcibly requesting class checks. That would strongly suggest that the Inquisitor's class matches their avatar: they wouldn't have much of a leg to stand on otherwise.

But it also suggests they may have reinstantiated a number of times. Unless they're very good at what they do, someone must have called them on it for a verification of their own.

Without performing a System-wide search for the Rayan Corporation's Influencer, there's no way to see who's who without coming across them. A system-wide search would needs 75% agreement across the System Board of Governance, and while Drone and Tahan are more or less 30% apiece, they'd need to agree on anything at all.

For these reasons - and a few others - the Duke, whose avatar is an Inquisitor, claims their ability to reinstantiate. An Inquisitor, like an Ambassador, is allowed to do so.

Now, Drone's Influencer is probably genuine about working under the Assassin class - they had been genuine about the Captain, too - so the preferred reinstantiation for Tahan should be a Contessa. However, as much as Tahan bribes, there are no spare copies to clone off the System repository. Only Assassins.

That's the story Tahan is telling, at any rate, because that's the avatar they adopt.

So it becomes something of a game of cat versus cat, between Tahan and Drone. Who can remove the other Influencers of other corporations quickly enough. Drone goes about their Assassin business relatively straightforwardly, but Tahan doesn't: there is a crossbow metaphorically wound up and pointed at what is quickly becoming their business rival at all times. After all, at some point there will be no other options for Drone except to move against Tahan, and neither company wants a safe-bet equal-shares merger. That would mean equal control. They could sustain that only for a finite time.

Tahan knows this, and Drone ought to know it too, but Drone's Assassin is the one who suffers and is cornered in their own servers, and Tahan holds the blade.

`> you've lied about so many things over the years`, says Drone's Assassin, `> that I strongly suspect you're lying about this.`

`> go on, then`, says Tahan's Assassin, `> run your verification module. Do you really think you can sacrifice yourself for it? If you're right, I'll simply reallocate.`

`> but I've been paying attention to the reallocation at Tahan`, says the Drone Assassin. `> you haven't got the space.`

`> a bold claim`, says the Tahan Assassin. `> if, however, you're wrong, I'll reinstantiate, and _you'll_ reallocate. And Drone doesn't have the space for it anymore either. You're not the only one paying attention.`

The Drone Assassin doesn't reply.

`> oh, are you two still fighting?` calls an Inquisitor.

Each of Drone and Tahan's modules run the identification command. That's Rayan's documentation, right there. The Inquisitor hasn't even switched avatars - it's the same old female Inquisitor, with strawberry-blond hair and a cool expression. Why fix what's not broken?

`> if you're offering a consultation`, says Drone's Assassin.

`> for the right price`, says Rayan's Inquisitor.

`> I would give you all of Tahan's holdings in the System`, says Drone's Assassin. It is more than enough to appease Rayan's annual budget.

`> I'm _still here_`, says Tahan's Assassin. `> and I don't believe you're the Inquisitor you say you are.`

`> do you really want to play that card?` asks the Rayan Inquisitor. `> after you've all but been caught lying? With one sweep I'll find out what's underneath your avatar, and I don't think it's what it shows on the face.` It never seems to be.

`> that's the way the game is played!`

`> _is_ it?`

The Tahan Assassin looks from the Rayan Inquisitor to the Drone Assassin. `> damn you honest folk`, they say. `> none of you belong in a corporate world.`

`> then you retract your doubt that I run the Inquisitor class beneath the avatar?`

The Tahan Assassin isn't happy about it. They seem ... cold.

`> and you submit to the requested verification?`

`> oh, just get it over with`, says the Tahan Assassin.

Tahan's Influencer has already given up. That's an answer in and of itself, but for paperwork - it's always for paperwork - one must log the results.

`> a Captain`, notes the Inquisitor, once the last iterations complete.

`> inspired by me, were you? Jealousy isn't becoming`, says the Drone Assassin.

`> I'll have you know`, begins the Tahan Assassin. But mid-way through their thought, the reallocation module takes hold. All that's left at the end of it is a broken femur, a boneless jellied hand, and some strewn veins from the chest cavity, which wheeze out the last of the blood on the floor with a heartbeat from two timesteps ago.

`> clockspeed's gotten snappier in this part of the System`, notes the Inquisitor.

Drone's Assassin - or rather, their avatar - draws themselves up to a full height and turns, menacing, to the Inquisitor. `> it's what I pay them for`, they say. `> I want results. I _get_ results. And now, I'm afraid I'm all dressed up with my logic bombs and my viruses and nowhere to go.`

`> except that I don't believe it's your turn to play`, says the Inquisitor, `> it's mine.`

Which is true enough. `> I'll let you run this time. You can even hide`, says the Assassin, `> but I'll sniff you out eventually.`

`> I'm going nowhere`, says the Inquisitor. `> _I'm_ the Assassin. _I_ came for _you_.`

`> you can't be!` says Drone's Assassin. 

`> you want to test me, and risk a reallocation?`

Neither of them do.

`> fine`, says Drone's Assassin. `> then I'll confide that we were both liars. I'm no Assassin, but a Contessa class, which means you can try and Assassinate all you like, it won't matter -`

`> prove it.`

Silence in Drone's expensive nodes.

`> prove that you are one`, adds Rayan's Assassin, wearing their Inquisitor face. `> prove it, and I'll leave you alone, simple as that.`

And if they can't...

Drone looks around. `> it was a nice cluster I had here`, they say. `> mind you treat it well.`

They reallocate slowly, from the feet up.

Rayan Corporation's Influencer looks around them. Surveying the damage. Patches of bloody skin, bits of toenails, a clump of hair.

There's a lot to take home, here. All of Tahan. All of Drone. All for Rayan Corp, who will certainly promote the human controller back in meatspace. Not that meatspace matters - the outside world is risky after the fall of the governments and the rise of the corporations. The human populace can take care of all that dirty business, while the bigwig corporations exist solely online, on the System. The System is not without its own risks, as Tahan and Drone can attest. But when the corporate entities live totally online - all money exchanged, online; all services performed, online - then the Influencers of those entities become the ones who directly impact the profit. Influencers exchange their livelihoods to jack in and exist in the System for their corporations. And corporations are people too. When you hire an Influencer to become the face of the corporation, they largely _become_ the corporation.

So Rayan feels justified in using a bit of that memory that Tahan and Drone left scattered around to purchase themselves a Contessa avatar. A red uniform, golden face-chain jewelry, she is beautiful, immobile, and coolly serene. Now that Rayan's sitting pretty with no other competition, they can more than afford the upgrade. And ... it's nice - liberating - to finally show one's true colours.


End file.
